


For Tonight

by Red Dragon (Red_Dragonn)



Category: The Transformers (IDW Generation One), Transformers - All Media Types
Genre: M/M, Past Relationship(s), Secret Relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-21
Updated: 2018-05-21
Packaged: 2019-05-09 16:00:49
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,426
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14719190
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Red_Dragonn/pseuds/Red%20Dragon
Summary: Starscream wants Megatron to cheer up.Hijinks ensue.





	For Tonight

**Author's Note:**

  * For [lastSaskatchewanPirate](https://archiveofourown.org/users/lastSaskatchewanPirate/gifts).



Starscream sat in his quarters and glared at the wall. 

Being that it was a wall, it didn’t quail under his furious glower, and so the Decepticon second-in-command rubbed at the dent on the left side of his face angrily and scowled at the floor instead. 

Once more, his ambitions had been taken snatched right out of his grasp—his fragile hope, crushed beneath Megatron’s heavy pedes once more. 

Honestly, at this point, Starscream was having a hard time staying angry because it was just so crushingly familiar. He would set his sights on something, and then Megatron would take offense, and he’d get the slag beaten out of him—while being treated to a Megatron Lecture, which Starscream dreaded far more at this point—and then he’d be in the doghouse until he could get himself back in Megatron’s good graces. 

But first, Megatron would need good graces to get into.

As far as Starscream could tell, their _glorious leader_ was still prowling about the ship like an angry phantom, appearing to yell at whoever managed to draw his ire. Starscream was not impressed. Truth be told, Starscream was _annoyed_. It would make his life much easier if he didn’t have a mech twice his size jumping down his throat for every tiny misstep. 

So he sat in his quarters and glared at the wall, and schemed as only he could scheme. 

* * *

It was a tried and true Decepticon strategy to get one’s frustrations out on another, smaller, less capable mech. Of course, every mech was less capable than Megatron, so that didn’t seem useful. 

Until…

What was one mech who was almost always insurmountable? Who could trade blows with the head of the Decepticon cause and walk away after? Who was one of the only mechs to come back after having Megatron’s blaster cannon pulverize their spark? 

Optimus Prime, that’s who. 

And after Starscream’s last plot-gone-awry, the Autobots had _better_ believe this. 

* * *

Starscream checked his reflection in the screen to make sure he looked appropriately battered and dented, and then flicked on the emergency call channel to the Autobot high command. He was rather lucky to have swindled it off of some poor, unfortunate wretch who had wound up in the Decepticon holding cells during some battle or another. Some poor, unfortunate, _very dead_ wretch. He couldn’t have his plans leaking out before their time, could he?

Someone answered the line immediately; Starscream did his best to look terrified and frantic and fragile and oh, he hated the act but it was useful. 

“Starscream?”

Starscream eyed the yellow and black mech on the other end of the line curiously. Fumbleknee, or something like that. “I need to speak to the Prime,” he said, carefully making sure his voice sounded harried and just a bit too controlled. “It’s urgent.”

The yellow mech narrowed their eyes at him. Bundlekey? Bumblebee? Who the frag was it? “Why do _you_ need to talk to _Optimus Prime_?”

Starscream opened his mouth, and then looked over his shoulders dramatically, as though he were trying to make sure no one was listening. Of course, Soundwave was _always_ listening, but he could still be convincing, couldn’t he? He lowered his voice to a harsh whisper and leaned into the screen. “It’s a matter of _extreme urgency_ and I was _told_ that he would help me if his last, ah, _aid_ got my aft into hot water. Find the fragging Prime for me.”

The yellow mech—Starscream was almost certain his name was Bumblebee—sighed, rubbing the back of his neck with one servo awkwardly. “I’m going to talk to Optimus about this, Starscream. Don’t go anywhere.”

Starscream fought the urge to roll his optics. “I called _you.”_

But Bumblebee was already gone, so Starscream sat down and tried to look like he was more damaged than he felt. 

If this were going to work out, he needed to be _very, very convincing._

He tapped his servos together, nerves making him ever so slightly more anxious than he would normally be. He could blame it on mortal terror, so he carefully absorbed it into the persona he was playing and let his entire body appear to grow tense. It wouldn’t do for him to _not_ look pathetic and terrified, would it? He waited a little longer. 

A minute passed. 

Starscream’s wingtips twitched. 

A minute and a half.

Starscream was beginning to worry that they’d just hung up on him when a blue helmet with a silver mask and blue, blue eyes moved into view. “Starscream?”

“Optimus Prime!” Starscream said, and made sure to sound desperate.

“What _happened_?” the Prime asked. “We just—”

“The plan went bad,” Starscream said. In all actuality, it hadn’t been the _Autobot’s_ plan, the one they had suggested to him, that had gone awry. If he’d gone though with that one, he’d be dead. Autobots had absolutely no conception of who the leader of the _Decepticons_ was, after all. But he would use the pieces he had ast his disposal.

The Prime’s optics widened ever so slightly, and then narrowed, dimming slightly. “And what do you want us to do about it?”

“Safe passage,” Starscream said, making sure to sound as absolutely, tenuously, last-hope desperate as he could possibly manage. “Please. Safe passage away from here.”

The Prime’s optics narrowed further. “You’re a flyer, aren’t you? Why can’t you—”

“The DJD,” Starscream cut in. _Honestly_. “I would be _dead_. But I need to _escape_. Megatron is—he’s been awful. There’s no freedom here,” he practically whined. The words he was saying didn’t bother him, but the…the _groveling tone_ left a sour taste on his glossa. “Please.”

The glare contorting the space behind the Prime’s mask lessened ever so slightly. “That’s what happened…?”

“To my face? Yes,” Starscream said, trying oh so very hard to keep it from sounding sardonic and not quite managing anyway. “I got hit. And kicked. And stepped on. It was very pleasant now will you _please_ get me _out of here_?”

The look on the Prime’s face, if Starscream was reading it right, was rapidly shifting towards pity. He wanted to grimace, but it didn’t matter. This was a means to an end, and nothing more. 

“Meet us alone, outside—”

“I can’t do that,” Starscream cut in. “There have been mechs watching to make sure I didn’t go anywhere strange. I need you to come where I won’t be waiting for half an hour, or you’ll get there and find my _severed helm_ lying on a pile of _slag!_ ”

The Prime sighed. “Ratchet and Prowl—”

“—will definitely kill me if you give them the chance,” Starscream said sharply. 

The Prime glanced off-screen for a second, and Starscream couldn’t hear what he was saying for a moment, and then he turned back. “I will come find you,” he said, faceplate wiggling ever so slightly. “I will tell you where and when to meet me. Be ready by tomorrow.”

Starscream nodded. Oh, he would be.

* * *

And he was.

The Autobot Prime pinged Starscream to meet him in a small clearing not too far from Decepticon camp, and Starscream made sure to pick up a few…supplies…before he approached their rendezvous. “Prime?”

The Prime whirled at Starscream’s soft-spoken question. “You’re here. Good. Come with me.”

Starscream smirked. “I believe I should say that to you,” he said, and hit him with a blast from the frequency gun. 

The Prime collapsed to the ground, joints giving out helplessly against the power of Shockwave’s newest invention. Starscream huffed—the Prime was a hell of a lot bigger than him, after all—and then grabbed hold of his shoulders and took off in jet form, dragging the temporarily paralyzed Autobot figurehead into the base and then into Megatron’s own rooms. Streaks of gray marred the floor where Starscream had let the Prime’s elbows and knees cut into the metal, but it wasn’t important. Surely Megatron would be too pleased tat the gift of a once mighty enemy brought low and defeated to even notice the damage to the floor.

He heard footsteps echoing in the hallway, heavy servos clamoring on the metal in a slow, unhurried pace that _had_ to be Megatron. 

Starscream ducked behind the nearest object of furniture to wait. This promised to be good.

* * *

Megatron was having a terrible fragging day. 

His second in command was, as usual, off doing some sort of Primus-forsaken scheming to have him killed or ousted, and while Megatron normally enjoyed the challenge of meeting Starscream head on in a battle of wits, this was not the time or the place. There were more important things to be doing. 

And then Shockwave, with his characteristic quiet insistence, had informed Megatron that someone had stolen a new prototypical weapon he had been developing. Something about a paralytic gun. Megatron knew that Starscream probably had it, because honestly, who the hell else had this ridiculous tendency to screw up his plans?

Needless to say, Megatron was _not happy_. He shook off the last of the people coming to bug him about some matter that he didn’t need to be involved in anyway and took a deep breath, relieved to finally be able to retire to the quiet comfort of his hab—

There was a groaning mech lying on the floor of _Megatron’s spark-damned fragging hab suite and that was_ it _he was_ done. He so emphatically didn’t need this. 

He drew himself back up to the imposing stature he usually occupied and then imperiously grabbed the shoulder of the mech that was curled up on the floor, yanking him upright with a growl. “What were you doing…in…my suite…?”

The words died in his vocalizer. 

Staring back at him, apparently helpless, was the utterly furious face of Optimus Prime.

* * *

Optimus struggled to force himself out of Megatron’s grip, tried to will his mouth to move, and was rewarded by neither. Fragging Starscream. “Mmmph,” he growled.

It was much harder to growl threats when one couldn’t speak.

Megatron made a noise that Optimus recognized as a laugh despite its resounding similarity to a grunt. “Not feeling all that chatty?”

Optimus grumbled at him again, but his fingers were twitching more, and he would take that as a good sign. He tried to hold his hands still, so that his advantage wouldn’t be spotted.

Megatron sighed and dropped him heedlessly on the floor. “I suppose you’re not much more than a pile of bolts and struts right now, huh?” he asked, turning to walk away.

By now, because the sensation and the control over his limbs were returning faster than he’d exected, Optimus could probably stand, One second more, and—

He lunged for the silver mech, joints whirring as he aimed a brutal kick at the center of Megatron’s lower back. The attack took Megatron entirely by surprise; and then the battle was on in full force.

* * *

Starscream winced as the tip of one of the Prime’s blue audial spikes snapped off and skittered over near to his foot, trailing violet energon it its wake. He was still watching the fight closely, of course, but sometimes it was hard to ignore the blood of your own worst enemy. Most times. Okay, basically all times. But.

Megatron wasn’t fighting as hard as he most certainly could have. His hits were glancing and comparatively light, rarely drawing energon, and they only ever landed where they had no chance of offlining him. The Autobot figurehead fought with no such compunctions. Starscream was, needless to say _, confused_. He’d seen them fight before. It was almost as though Megatron were… _playing_ with the Prime. 

* * *

“Why am I here?” Optimus gritted out, even though grappling with Megatron should have deserved his whole attention. He was pinned, but they’d done this song and dance often enough even before the war that Optimus didn’t think it was going to end here. 

And it didn’t; he managed to flip the heavier silver mech with just as much ease as he had the fist time Megatron had taught him how to. 

“You tell me,” Megatron growled, spitting violet energon out of his mouth and kicking Optimus off of him, hard. A hundred aches and pains demanded Optimus’s attention, all renewed from that one hit. He growled. 

“What the _frag_ does that mean?” Optimus spat, waiting carefully for Megatron to make a move. He still hadn’t used the fusion cannon at his shoulder, but now that Optimus watched, he leisurely swung it down and into his hand. He clicked the settings on the trigger a few times, and then Megatron put

The gun

on 

the 

ground

and kicked it away from himself, baring his opened servos. 

Optimus stared.

* * *

Starscream also stared.

What the _slag_ was Megatron playing at?

Megatron spread his servos wide, silver paint glittering in the light. Starscream watched curiously. “Prime, we’re alone.”

The Prime gave him a confused look, and then took a quick half step back as Megatron took a step forwards. “Optimus,” he said, and paused, reaching a hand out for the Prime’s left shoulder. “ _Orion_. We’re _alone_.” 

Starscream was so confused. Megatron sounded almost… _pleading_. But this was _Megatron_ , and so that was impossible. He reset his audials, and nearly missed the response that the Autobot figurehead gave. “Alone alone?”

Megatron nodded decisively, and suddenly he was back to being the same Megatron that Starscream recognized. “If we are not, I will find whatever hapless mech decided to interlope upon my privacy and shred them gear by gear until they can no longer beg for mercy,” he said coolly. The Prime gave him a flat look, and then, to Starscream’s utter confusion, he doubled over laughing. 

Come to think of it, there was a smirk playing at the edge of Megatron’s lips, too.

“Surely you didn’t mean me,” the Prime said lightly, getting himself back under control.

Megatron paused. “I would like to know how you got in here.”

 _Frag_. 

“I think you’re going to have to just find out and see,” the Prime said, miraculously not selling Starscream out. This didn’t seem to be going _badly_ , per se, but he most certainly did not need to be _caught_ in here. That could be….disastrous.

At some unspoken cue, the two warframes launched themselves at one another again, sounds of destruction seeming louder and more insistent after the short reprieve.

Starscream grimaced and stared and watched it all.

What the _frag?_

* * *

Megatron ducked under a punch and checked Optimus across the room with a hard blow upwards. The other bot flew back, hitting a wall hard and venting audibly. Fans whirred to life as he chased the momentum of the throw to grab Optimus by the hip and the shoulder, pinning him against a wall. 

“It’s been too long, Megatron,” Optimus panted. “Since we did this like _this_ , I mean.”

“Not for years,” Megatron agreed, rubbing his servos gently over the kibble at Optimus’s waist. Nothing too suggestive, yet—he hadn’t _won_ , yet. “Far too long.”

Optimus hummed, and then dropped his weight, breaking Megatron’s grip to flip their positions. Megatron, never one to be outdone, used the momentum to send Optimus careening into an awkward direction and then chased him there. Optimus was disoriented, and so Megatron smashed his knee into Optimus’s faceplate one, two times, before getting him in a headlock.

“You remember the rules of this little game, surely,” Megatron asked, and despite himself his breath was coming short and fast. This was much harder now than it had been back before they’d grown so used to truly fighting one another. Back when Optimus used to try to lose. “Don’t you?”

Optimus blinked up at him lazily, and then snapped out of Megatron’s hold with a carefully executed twist. “How could I forget? But you haven’t won yet.”

He jumped at Megatron, and Megatron snapped his foot out, catching Optimus squarely in the center of his chassis. Plating buckled with an audible groan. _Oh, slag. That could be important_ , Megatron thought, and then ignored it. Optimus was winded, but he was still standing, and that meant he was fine. After all, he could call this off anytime.

Megatron smirked, and brought his fist back for another punishing blow.

* * *

Optimus snapped his hand up. He would have loved to keep doing this forever, but he didn’t want to take the chance of real damage. “I yield.”

Megatron froze mid-strike, and then put both hands gently on Optimus’s shoulders, just like he had always done. Always so gently after they did this. It fascinated Optimus that Megatron could still act so similar to the mech he had once been, even if Orion Pax lay so far away that Optimus sometimes thought he could never bring himself back to who he once was. To who he had _liked_ being.

And here Megatron was, reminding him of why he had once been so happy. 

This was dangerous. This was a terrible idea.

There was no way Optimus was passing it up, just for now. It changed nothing—he couldn’t afford to let it change things—but for now? They could just be Megatron and his Orion, together against the odds. 

Megatron tilted his head slightly, and those scarlet optics of his gazed evenly into Optimus’s blue ones. And he didn’t say anything.

* * *

Megatron hungrily drank in every inch of Optimus’s eyes, and then he slowly reached one hand up to the back of his neck to unlatch the mask and prize it from his face.

“I missed you,” Optimus said quietly, just a light hum against the background noise of their fans still whirring at double speed. 

“And I you,” Megatron said softly. He did his best not to dwell on that often. But his words had their intended effect—Optimus’s gaze snapped up, staring at his face intently for any trace of a lie. Megatron wasn’t lying, though, and so he wouldn’t find anything to latch on to. Instead, he pulled the mech in his arms closer, pulling him into an embrace they’d both been denied for centuries.

* * *

Starscream was so fragged.

Starscream was _so_ fragged.

Starscream was so _fragged_.

No, nope, any way he said that, it was still bad.

Starscream straightened his spine and clenched his fists and refused to bow to his nerves. He was _Starscream_. He would come out on top of this somehow. 

Even if he had just become privy to what may have been the single least useful secret Megatron had.

And if Megatron caught him, which was beginning to look more and more likely…then Starscream? Starscream was fragged.

* * *

Optimus melted into Megatron’s strong frame like he had always done back when things were better, back before the war. 

Back before this war had thrust them into the roles of enemies.

“You’re a lot taller,” he mumbled against Megatron’s chassis. 

“You’re a lot prettier,” Megatron said back, pressing his forehead to Optimus’s. “I won, so I get the request.”

It was not a question, and that sent a little jolt of excitement racing through Optimus’s spark just like it always did. 

Megatron made a show of thinking, tapping his strong servos against the back of Optimus’s neck in exaggerated deliberation. He tapped his fingers one last time, “Go lay down n the berth on your back,” he ordered. 

That tone of voice never failed to make Optimus’s spark dance, and he hastened to obey.

* * *

Megatron could feel the buzz on Optimus’s plating as his fans started to kick up just from the orders alone. They’d always been well matched in this department. 

Well. In most departments, honestly.

“Open your panel, _Optimus_ ,” Megatron drawled, and _wow_ if that wasn’t a sight that he had been certain he’d never lay eyes on again. Optimus Prime, sprawled out on his berth, bleeding from myriad tiny wounds, and just _aching_ to obey Megatron’s commands. The red and blue warframe did as Megatron told him, carefully sliding back his panel to reveal his array. Megatron felt heat building under his plating, and the whir of his fans picked up just a bit. 

Optimus gave him a lazy look. “Are you going to come over here, or—”

Megatron cleared the distance between the two of them in one smooth stride, struts extended as he easily straddled the foot of the bed. Optimus took in a shaky breath underneath him. 

Megatron’s lip curled up into a smirk as he reached out to brush his fingers against Optimus’s array.

* * *

Starscream did not sign up for this.

It was a shame he couldn’t somehow go back in time and warn himself what a phenomenally bad idea _staying in Megatron’s room_ was. This was such a bad idea. Starscream had really fragged up this time.

* * *

_Megatron_ , Optimus thought, biting down on a moan, _really did not compare to the general populace at this._ He squirmed, trying to get more friction on the pair of silver digits probing deep inside him, but Megatron just arched an eyebrow. “Hold still.”

Optimus froze. 

The fingers in his valve brushed against calipers and sensitive nodes, but didn’t press hard enough to provide anything other than a tease. Optimus was going to lose his mind. 

With anyone else, he might have started to ask for more, faster, harder, but this was _Megatron_ , and even after all this time they both knew each other inside and out. Megatron would go faster and harder when he thought Optimus could take it, and Optimus was content to let Megatron handle him. 

Megatron’s probing fingers brushed against another sensitive node, just hard enough to make Optimus’s back arch,and then already were spiraling away. Megatron gave Optimus a careful once over, and then he slid in a third digit with only a little bit of a stretch, and then—Optimus _hoped—_ considered adding a fourth.

His hopes were dashed, but only for a moment. Megatron instead withdrew all of his fingers, sticky lubricant dripping off his hand, and then wiped it down on his spike. Finally. _Finally_. Megatron pushed his entire length inside Optimus, hard, but not to the point that he couldn’t take it. Just like everything else between them, it was just pushing the limits of what Optimus could take, and he loved it. He sucked in a deep breath, optics offlining with the sensation and then cycling slowly back on, and as Megatron began to move there was only room left for one thought in Optimus’s mind. 

It had been too long.

* * *

Afterward, sticky and warm and comfortable, Megatron lay with Optimus curled up against his chassis just like they had done so many times before. At first he was content just to bask in their shared afterglow, but Megatron had never been able to just sit idly by without doing anything. And so he licked his dry lips and smiled down at Optimus gently. “You remember that time that I tried to rhyme your name with lion?”

Optimus blinked up at him blankly for a moment, and then the memory clicked into place. “Oh, from that one awful poem you kept insisting was going to be your magnum opus?”

Megatron nodded, stroking one hand across his Optimus’s cheek. “Yeah, that one.”

Optimus gave him an odd look. “Why are you bringing that up?”

Megatron shrugged. “It was nice. Not having to worry about whether or not I’d ever be able to see you again. I liked that. Even if everything else from back then was awful.”

Optimus nodded, audial spikes tapping against Megatron’s arm. “I liked that, too. Now we can barely even speak to one another without worrying about being overheard.”

There was a very quiet squeaking noise. Were it any other ship, and any other day, and any other situation, Megatron would not have paid it any mind. For now, though, he made very careful note of it. 

Megatron nodded, the hand on Optimus’s cheek curling around to probe at the chipped tip of Optimus’s audial spike. “I’m sorry for when I hurt you,” he said quietly. 

“All part of the game,” Optimus shrugged. “We always come out with a few nicks and bruises for the both of us.”

Megatron shook his head. “That’s not what I was referring to.”

“Oh,” Optimus said. “The war can wait, Megatron. It’s not important right now.”

Megatron held his blue and red mech a little closer for a second, and then nodded. “Not now. Agreed.”

They sat in companionable silence for a minute or two, just long entough that it started to feel long, when Optimus turned over so that he could stare into Megatron’s scarlet optics. “A long time ago,” he said. “A long time ago, back when I was still some police officer named Orion Pax and you were just some guy who wrote poetry and sometimes fought in the Pits, you said that we should be conjunxes.”

Megatron’s spark definitely didn’t flicker in alarm at that. Definitely not. Anyone who claimed so would have to be a bold faced liar. 

“I said that we couldn’t, because it was illegal for two mechs of our castes to be together,” Optimus continued on blithely, seemingly unaware of the fact that Megatron was now just barely not freaking out. “And you said…”

“‘Frag the rules, because they’re unimportant, and we can change them anyway,’” Megatron offered. “And you turned me down. Because duty was always more important to you thank what you wanted.”

Optimus nodded. “It _used_ to be.”

Megatron arched an eyebrow.

Optimus looked away. “I—I meant—”

“I know what you meant,” Megatron said, and though the words were sardonic the tone behind them was nothing but warm. “I accept, Optimus.”

* * *

Starscream was beginning to think this was a bad dream. Some sort of bizarre nightmare. Did he just see _his Megatron_ , Megatron the Slag-Maker, Megatron the Destroyer, become the conjunx endura to _Optimus Prime_ of all mechs? This went _so_ sideways. 

* * *

Megatron never cared much for religion, and Optimus didn’t care much for grandiosity, and so they swapped vials of their inner energon and called it done. They exchanged embraces, and reminisced just a bit more, and then Optimus, ever so dutiful even now, Optimus cited the time and wincingly stood up to leave. Megatron sighed, marched his new conjunx out of the room, and then did somethign to dthe door/

Starscream, being that he was not _stupid_ , immediately attempted to flee the room before Megatron got back.

To no avail. 

The door was locked from the outside.

Oh, Starscream was _so incredibly, legitimatly fragged._


End file.
